Joseph, Mary, and Two Jesuses

Every so often, I remember my dreams. Last week, I dreamed that I was thinking, “I wish I lived in New York.” And then I realized that I did.

(Sometimes, I do wish I could live in New York. In an affordable, spacious 2BR apartment that allows big dogs. In this apartment building, no one would cook with stinky spices or play loud music.)

What does it mean? Was it a dream about moving or questioning where I want to be?

On Friday, I hung out with my neighbors Joe and Sarah (their first names: Joseph and Mary). They came over to install a phone jack for me and didn’t want anything in return. Now, these are neighbors who invite me over for BBQs, give Papa Christmas gifts, and help me chip out ice around my garage in the winter. A year ago, they hosted dinner and gave me a toilet tank lid. Good people. Even though they're transplants from Oregon, they seem like neighbors I’ve known forever. That’s what I love about the Midwest — the neighborly feeling that’s authentic.

While Joe was fixing the wires in the basement, we found two Jesus figurines. I had never seen them before, not in the seven years that I'd been in the house. (There used to be a shiny gold one, but he disappeared.) I cleaned them up and put them in the glove compartment of Joe and Sarah’s car when we went to dinner. I like to think that the Jesi (Jesuses?) watched over us to make sure we had a safe, fun evening.

And we did: At Elsa's, we ate broccoli, buffalo wings, and burgers and chatted about life.

So even though that’s not the same thing as being able to pop into Border’s to hear Jackson Browne perform, I can’t say I’ve ever had neighbors like the ones I’ve had here in Milwaukee, once I bought my house.

I am still puzzling over what my dream means. Maybe it's about recognizing that I'm already where I want to be, happy with reality. Reality is definitely a nice place to be.